


Black Hat

by Haunt_Haunt_Haunt



Category: American Horror Story: Hotel, Hannibal (TV), Vampire: The Masquerade
Genre: Also Auspex, But Healthy Smut, Computer Hacker or Sex God?, Hannibal Lecter Makes an Appearance, Other, Porn With Plot, Shameless Smut, So Does James Patrick March, Trans Character, Transpositivity, Why Does a Ventrue Have Potence?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 14:53:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20311324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haunt_Haunt_Haunt/pseuds/Haunt_Haunt_Haunt
Summary: Jordan is just a neonate trying to make his way in the world, and when the Prince gives him a directive, well, he can't really say no.





	Black Hat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [YogSoThots](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YogSoThots/gifts).

What I heard wasn’t what I had expected. Of course, wasn’t that how it went with the undead? The Prince had asked me to take care of a thing for him. He asked me! It was an honor to be singled out! I was just a Neonate after all. I had only been Kindred for a few years, and only been released for about one. I had never expected the recognition, but as one of the few Tremere in the area, anything in the realm of magical effects of course fell to me, and I would do the Camarilla proud. I was certain. But it was a little odd. Botany was not my specialty. I was a chemist, specializing in the properties of blood, like most Tremere. I had very little experience with the Green Path of Thaumaturgy. Of course I was going to do what the Prince asked and figure out what was up with the walking plant monsters. I just hoped that I would have an adequate answer.

That is what had led me on a merry hunt through half of the Domain of Northwest Arkansas, and that’s what led me to the name Jan Freeman. It was rumoured that she was a mage, but of course, to figure out the truth, I would need to find her, and I pulled on the few boons that I had acquired in court. That’s what had led me to this hallway, and to this room. Inside was another Kindred. I was certain of that, but he wasn’t a Nosferatu, which was odd for an information broker. My contact hadn’t told me much about him.  
His name was Donovan, and he was a Ventrue. He was really good at finding people and things that didn’t want to be found, and he had an arrangement with the Nosferatu, and was one of the few people not in their clan to hold some kind of sway and clan status with them. How that was possible was a mystery. I was also told that he was incredibly dangerous, had a memory that could record conversations as well as a piece of technology, I was warned not to say anything that could be considered personal, or it would be sold, and that he was the reason that the Tremere weren’t in town anymore. It sounded far-fetched, but so did blood sucking people that burst into fire when they came in contact with sunlight. I had figured that he would be an old Elder of some authority and influence, the Ventrue normally were, and that he would probably lord over me because I was a Neonate, and that was fine. I had survived worse and was canny, even as young as I was. Just watch what I say, and I should be fine, right?

And that is why I was taken aback by what I found. I walked into The Dickson, which was a high-rise, one of the few in town but by no means a skyscraper. I was from Memphis, and this building would have been dwarfed in the city, but it was the crown jewel of the little mini Beale Street that this town and the University seemed to prize. Inside I went, and walked past the cookie shop on the first floor, and I pressed the button in the elevator for the top floor. It was strange that there was a penthouse here. I wondered who lived there, but it required a key to make the elevator go there, so it wasn’t of importance at the time. Up I went, past the boutique on floor two, the offices on three, four, five, and six, I went past 40/29’s Newsroom on floor seven, and then there were more offices all the way to floor twelve. It was floor thirteen that the elevator stopped at. I had to keep myself from laughing at that particular cliché. I knew that Kindred were the dramatic sort, of course, but this was a bit much. The elevator opened up on a hallway. I couldn’t really call it quiet. There was a deep rumbling sound that shook the floors. I walked down the hallway, looking at the doors of the four rooms.

The first one was for C. Borgia. I knew him! He was one of the Lasombra at court! He was also an honest to God priest in the Diocese here. It was odd, but hey, if it suited him, who was I to judge? I could hear music coming out of the room. It was slow paced and heavy. I was able to place it as the Weeknd. It sounded like Kissland, actually. What was an elder like Cesare Borgia doing listening to the Weeknd? I shook my head and continued down, coming across a vacant room. The placard said W. Graham, but it was obvious that the apartment had been empty for a while. I tried the door out of curiosity, and wasn’t entirely certain why I did? I guess I was curious how other people lived, especially in a classy place like this. All I really know for certain is that some impulse guided me to open the door. I was shocked when it swung open to a fully furnished apartment. I was so shocked that I lost control of my Sight, and the emotions of this apartment came flooding back to me. There was so much sadness and regret here. I was certain immediately that another Kindred had dwelled here, but the emotions of it were so strong, that it drove me to my knees as I felt the sadness and the regret and the anger, and there was something else muddled inside of it all. Was it; was it a sense of self? The hand on my shoulder brought me back to myself like a rubber band releasing its tension.

I immediately jumped to my feet and turned, coming face to face with… He wasn’t what I was expecting. He was an older gentleman with slicked back longish hair, it was black, and he looked to be in his forties or fifties, but I knew, by the hunger in his eyes, that he was like me. He was kindred. He had come out of the room across the hall, and I glanced over, focusing on one of the Sight’s many useful applications, magnifying and reading the man’s nameplate. I wasn’t scared of him particularly, and he wasn’t being threatening, but as Kindred, information is power. His nameplate read H. Lecter, and the way he looked at me, it made me uneasy.

“I’m very sorry, Sir. I thought the door was locked,” I said quickly. I could hear what sounded like Classical music drifting out of his apartment, and a wonderful smell! It was definitely food, but there was the unmistakable tang of blood in there. Was he cooking with human blood?

“It was not. Have no fear Childe. I had just hoped that the resident had come home. I have been watching the place for him,” He said, and his voice was thickly accented.  
I blinked. Since when had Kindred taken the wellbeing of other Kindred so seriously?

He seemed to notice, and a small, sad smile appeared, but it still creased the area around his eyes. This was a man that may have smiled easily in life, but didn’t do so anymore. “Is it so odd that I have made a friend of my neighbor? We all have the people we trust and care about. Just because we are dead doesn’t mean that our hearts stop beating. Vitae still flows through our veins, girl, and when everything else stops, you need to pay attention to the parts that still work.”

It felt like he had said something deep and introspective, for sure, but I was still startled. He seemed almost kind? That was not something I thought Elder Kindred did, unless they were out to get something, so I was on guard.

“Again, I am sorry for the intrusion,” I said, and tried to leave, but something in his eyes compelled me to stay, and no, before you suggest it, it wasn’t a power of the blood like the Sight or like Presence. This was raw and human, or as near as we can get.

“I am curious, who are you? I don’t make it to Camarilla gatherings anymore, and haven’t made one in many years. I don’t recognize you.”

“My name is Jordan. Jordan Petrova, and I’m not a girl. I’m non-binary. I have indoor plumbing, but that doesn’t mean I am a girl. Not that it matters.” I hated myself, of course. This was a kindred, probably a very old elder, and here I was trying to explain my sexual identity when all he asked really was my name. I guess some old habits die hard.  
He smiled, and this time it was genuine. He reached around me and grabbed the door knob of the vacant-but-not-empty apartment and pulled the door easily closed. It wasn’t aggressive, and I could tell that there was no hidden meaning, he wasn’t telling me to stay out with actions or anything. He was just a man that was closing an open door. “I am sorry to assume. Most Kindred aren’t non-binary. I took a calculated risk. What pronouns would you like me to use, or would you just like me to use your name, Mixter Petrova?”  
I… I was baffled, again. This kind of courtesy had felt so foreign to me. “Umm, he/him is fine, and they/them.” I paused. My voice had wavered.

The man looked at me again. A smaller smile this time, but there was a smile nonetheless. “Are you so unused to kindness? That is a sad state of affairs, Mr. Petrova. Then, the Camarilla doesn’t breed or engender much kindness beyond selfishness. You have nothing that I want, dear Childe. I am just being a good man. We all have ways to shackle our humanity.” There he was again, saying deep things, and I felt like a stupid kid just standing in front of him. “So, why are you here? I wasn’t expecting company, and you don’t look to be Mr. Borgia’s type.”

His… His type? Did I look like food? I didn’t feel like being diablerized today at any rate. “I am actually here to see a Mr. Donovan? I was just looking at the rooms when I opened this one. I had never been up here before.”

He nodded. “It’s the one you walked past.” He pointed down the hall. “He’s a good neighbor, if a little loud. I advise you to knock first, of course. Donovan is a paranoid man, and you may find yourself incinerated if you just try to walk in. In fact, I advise you not to make a habit of that. It is rude.” I was waiting for that remark. It was rude, and I knew it. “By the sounds of things, he is in. You picked good timing. I heard him come in a few minutes ago. He must have just returned from his dinner.”

“Umm… Thank you, Mr. Lecter. Again, I am sorry to bother you,” I said quickly, breaking eye contact and making my way for the only other door in the hallway. Lecter must have softly chuckled. I could hear it, then his door closed, and that led me to the only other door in the hallway.

This couldn’t be right. The nameplate said D. Riviera, which was an odd Ventrue name. Usually it was something like Kennedy or Rockefeller or had an unbelievable set of numbers behind it. The oddest part though was the musical choice. I was no fan of dubstep, but I recognized Skrillex when I heard it. And it was loud! The rumbling that I had been experiencing was the bass from his music. It was shaking the floors! Yet, no one seemed to mind? They just drowned it out with their own soundtracks. I braced myself. Here he was. The dangerous elder. I had hoped he would be less intelligent than Mr. Lecter. That man frightened me. I knocked sharply a few times on the door, and I waited, holding my breath, and closing my eyes. It felt like it had stretched on for an eternity, but after nothing had happened for thirty seconds, I frowned and knocked again. Again, nothing. Was he not home? Mr. Lecter seemed quite certain he was in. I frowned again, and knocked a little harder this time. Then something happened. I could hear the dubstep get quieter. After a few seconds, there was a rattle, and then the door opened a crack. I could see that the room beyond was softly and warmly lit, but of Donovan, all I could see was a single eye peering at me through the door.

“Can I help you?” He asked, and he didn’t sound at all what I thought he would sound like. Most of the Elders of Clan Ventrue were fat rich white guys, and they were a dime a dozen. He sounded younger, or at least, he was embraced younger, and his voice was smooth and soft.

“Yeah, uhh… I’m looking for you, I think? I needed information and my contacts led to you. You’re Donovan, right?” I said, and then I smelled something wafting through the door. I was certain that it was Doritos, of all things, but that couldn’t be right.

He seemed to consider the request. “Just a moment,” He said, and he shut the door. I had to wait a few minutes, the music got quieter, there was some scraping near the base of the door, then the door opened. It was a nice room, actually, if a bit empty. There was a large expanse of bare carpet, then it stopped at a desk, all metal and glass. The desk had three displays on it, and mounted from the ceiling were three more displays, and behind that was a long glass wall that overlooked the side of Fayetteville, Arkansas heading towards the courthouse and away from the college. The glass wall extended into the kitchen, where there was a small table, made for one person to use, and the table was covered in glasses. Not any kind of special glasses. Just regular drinking glasses. Further in was the kitchen, which wasn’t necessarily dirty, or at least, not by my standards. It just looked lived in. To my left was the bedrooms and one of them was odd. It looked like the walls had been replaced with glass, and inside were several server towers lined up with enough room to breathe between them. That also explained why the air was so cold. He had to keep those monstrosities cool. The other room I couldn’t see anything in, except that the door was open. Hell, the only thing that smelled even kind of like Ventrue in this room was that nestled against the right wall right before the kitchen, there was an old liquor cabinet with various carafes, bottles, and tumblers.

Then my eyes landed on him. I want to describe him, but how does one describe a masterpiece of flesh? There I am, waxing poetic again. He had dark black hair, that he kept cut close to his head. It was short along the sides, but enough to grab on the top. He wore a red plaid button up with blue jeans, and he was barefoot, which made me stifle a laugh, but the most notable thing was the flawless brown skin, the whitest teeth, and of course, the eyes. They were like chocolate. He had a sizeable amount of stubble on his face, but it didn’t look bad. Lust set in as my eyes landed on him, and I must have sucked in a breath or something. He just rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” He said quietly, then turned and went back to his control center, sitting with his feet up on the chair and typing away. He put on a pair of black and red glasses, and he moved to put on headphones, but his eyes landed on me and he stopped. They were the kind that had moving light up cat ears in green. This was not what I was expecting, at all.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” I stammered. Of course, the minute I set eyes on a pretty boy, I was hopeless. A hopeless gay. “I just… umm… I guess I was expecting…” I stopped, before my traitorous mouth could get me in trouble.

“You were probably expecting someone white,” He said, reading my mind. “The Ventrue like to hide me in the attic, but they keep me around because I’m really good at making money, and I know their clan rules better than they do. Besides, someone has to work on their computers,” He muttered the last sentence, and I don’t think I was supposed to hear it, but I did.

“Well, yeah I guess,” I said under my breath. He wasn’t looking at me. His eyes were darting between his screens, and he was typing rapidly. I didn’t really know what to do, and just stood awkwardly in the big open space. It was almost hot. I felt like a piece of meat, being inspected, but then, he wasn’t even looking at me. My face flushed at the thought anyway.

“I’m sorry I didn’t let you in right away. I wasn’t exactly dressed. Let me finish what I am doing, and I can actually pay attention to you. I don’t get many guests.”

I turned even redder at the remark. He wasn’t dressed? My mouth moved before I could stop it, the bastard. “You weren’t dressed?”

His eyes darted to me for a split second, then back to the screens. “No, I wasn’t. I just got back from dinner, and it was messy. I didn’t want to sit here covered in the thot’s blood, and I wasn’t expecting guests, so I put my clothes in the wash and hadn’t changed yet.” He tapped a little bit more agitated. “What I do in my house is none of your business, anyway. What do you want?”

There was the usual brusqueness I was used to dealing with, and it seemed to snap me out of the Playboy scenario I was living in my head. “Sorry, yes. I’m here looking for someone.”

“Jan Freeman, then. I was wondering when you would show up, Mr. Petrova,” He said, without batting an eye. I was immediately terrified.  
“You know who I am?”

He sighed, and it seemed like he had finished what he was working on, because he looked away from the computers and rolled up the bag of Doritos on his desk, the stood. “You can come sit at the table. I don’t own a couch.” He gestured at the little two person square next to the plate glass windows. It was still made of dark, solid cherry wood, but it was small, and not what I had expected. I slid my backpack of various magical components and self-defense items off my back and sat down at the table. He made his way across the room to the liquor cabinet, opening it, and then continued talking. “I’m responsible for driving your clan out of the area. When they are practicing devil worship, that’s the kind of thing that gets people killed and breaks the Masquerade. So, when another Tremere, and one of the few that survives the purge, starts asking where to find me, I tend to take notice. Infernalism or not, the Tremere don’t typically forgive what they see as a slight, and I got at least five elders killed. So yeah, I kept an eye on you, and I have been following your progress. Scotch okay?”

The last part took me by surprise. I was slow on the uptake again, and I realized that I had been staring at him. I shook my head, trying to get the lust out. I was here on business. “I’m good,” I said, calculating whether it was more polite to take it and just stare at it, or refuse it altogether. I had been sober for a few years, and was proud of that. I didn’t want to ruin that just because he was pretty. He shrugged and went over to the fridge, pulling out two Corona and popping the tops off, shoving a lime wedge in each, and then came over to the table, putting one in front of me. Dammit. He looked around again and grabbed a bag of chips from a shelf, placing them in front of me.

“Sorry I don’t have real food. Like I said, I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I—“ I paused. Again, this was some kind of hospitality or courtesy I hadn’t expected. I haven’t exactly lived an easy life, and kindness seemed lost on me. “I don’t expect you to feed me?”

He sat across from me and waved his hand. “It’s not you. It’s a cultural thing. In my family, growing up, when a guest came over, you fed them. Haven’t you heard the trope of the super nice Abuela that stuffed you full before you left for the evening? It’s a hospitality thing, and though you weren’t expected, you are welcome here.” He pushed his lime wedge into his beer and took a swig, grimacing at it, but he said nothing.

“It’s appreciated, but again, not necessary,” I repeated, sliding the beer away from me and trying not to draw attention to it. I really didn’t want to be rude, but I didn’t want to fall off the wagon either. It was still hard, even after a few years being clean. It would never get easier either. I knew that, but it’s not something that you think about when you don’t struggle with it. Staying sober is a monumental task, and here I was, seeing it so easy to take one drink. I would be fine, I told myself, and sure, maybe I would be, but how long until that mindset told me that I could do that one hit of heroin, and still be fine? I didn’t want to risk it.

“Is there a problem?” He asked. He noticed.

“No! Not at all! I just… I don’t drink anymore.” My true feelings must have shown through, his eyes got wide. “Sorry Chico! I didn’t even think.” He stood, taking the temptation out from in front of me, and I was immensely grateful. In its place not even a minute later was a glass of… Something? It was white like milk, but it had the consistency of water, and the beer was in the sink, going down the drain. He kept his.

“I… appreciate the offer I guess, but…” I didn’t know what to say.

“You’re fine. I let it slip my mind that you were in recovery. Nothing needs to be said. The fault is mine.” He pulled a phone out of his pocket and glanced at it. It was buzzing. He ignored the call. “I just had to hang up on James Patrick March, so let’s make this quick. He’s gonna be pissy. Jan Freeman. I have the information that you want, but I don’t give anything away for free.”

“I hadn’t expected you to. I just don’t know what to offer.” I immediately felt like an idiot. I was a Neonate, so boons weren’t really worth much, especially to an elder, and I didn’t own too much. I had nothing to pay him with.

He sighed, leaning back from the table. “You haven’t been doing this very long. Usually, we in the Camarilla trade favors as a form of currency. Do you know what a boon is?”  
I blinked. “I’m… a neonate. My boons aren’t going to mean much to an elder.”

This time, he looked at me, and he started laughing. I was taken aback. I didn’t know what was so funny, really. When he got himself back under control, he spoke. “Alright, Chico. First off, you’re a Tremere, so don’t sell yourself short. You can do things with your blood that the rest of us can only dream of. Give yourself some credit. Second, don’t treat yourself like trash around Elders. If you let them, they will lord it over you. Just remember, they were all Neonates at one point too. You are just as valuable as they are. You have your own skills. Lastly, I’m not an Elder, and whoever told you that just wanted to scare you. I’m an Ancilla. My sire was Al Capone.”

“Al… Al Capone? Like, THE Al Capone?!” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“The one and only. Alphonse Capone, the infamous gangster, and I’d rather not dwell on it if you don’t mind. Other Ventrue like to amaze with their pedigree, but I’m here to conduct business, so you tell me, how much is this information worth to you? How much do you want to impress the Prince?”

I suddenly wished I could just fuck him and be done. His sire was a scary person. I had known that Al Capone had become Kindred, but I didn’t know I was dealing with his childe. That was where the stories came from. If Donovan was anything like his sire, he’d be cut-throat, ruthless, and he was likely to kill me if I snubbed him. But then, I didn’t want to pay with sex. There was something about him that drew me in, and I probably would hate him if he even asked. “I don’t even know what this information is worth, without knowing what it is. Sell it to me.”

He seemed almost impressed. There was a look of approval in his eyes. “I have a phone number, a home address, a business address, a work schedule, and a shopping list, though the shopping list may not help you much. If you pay me right, I can hack into her computers and find anything you want, and she won’t even know you were snooping.”  
I thought for a moment. Getting this right would curry me a lot of favors, and I may even gain status for it. It was important, but did Donovan know that? He seemed to know a lot about me. “What about two minor boons?” I asked, hoping that I wasn’t lowballing him. I was new to the whole boon system.

“If you want her computer records, it’s gonna be two majors.” He said, almost immediately. I knew that was too high. I had owed someone a major once, and I knew what that entailed.

“How about one?” I asked, going for something much more fair. He blinked. “It’s not often that people decide to haggle with me. I’m much more palatable than the Nos,” He said, then extended his hand. “Fine, one major boon, and I’ll hack her computers, as well as give you the information that you need to find her,” He said. I took his hand and shook. His skin was nice and smooth. I was used to people with callouses.

“Now, I’d offer you a drink over our deal, but that would be rude, so drink your horchata,” He said, gesturing at the glass in my hands.

“My whore-what?” I asked, looking down at the glass.

“God you’re so white.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s like… milk made out of plants. You’ll like it, I promise. I wouldn’t have served it if it was gross.”

I sniffed it. I guess I had drank worse, so I took a swig. It was surprisingly good. I could taste cinnamon, nutmeg, cocoa, and vanilla, among other things. He stood, grabbing his phone. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go deal with a sycophant.” He went into the back room and I had a moment to feel at ease.

I couldn’t get over how pretty he was, and he seemed incredibly intelligent, so what was wrong with him? I glanced over at the sink, and I saw the beer bottle upside down in it. That brought back memories that I didn’t want. I remembered the last time I had gotten so wrecked. I was past alcohol at that point. It had been a bad day, and all I wanted was to not feel. A deal had gone bad, and Jeremy had been shot. I had barely escaped, but then, that was to be expected when you dealt drugs. I was a kid then, and it felt like so long ago, but meth was worth a lot. I didn’t know it then, but had found out later that the Giovanni had a drug monopoly in the area, and were ruthless with freelancers. I had thought at the time that it was just a cartel that didn’t like us on their turf, and they fought back. I made it back to the trap house alive, and Jeremy was dead because of me, so I laid in my bed, felt the needle go in, felt the heroin in my blood stream, then the sweet release of mortality. I had wanted to stay that way, dying with a lack of feeling. Jeremy was the most important person in my life, and I had lost him. I wanted to stay with him, but my Sire had other ideas. I shuddered when I thought about it. The way the heroin could make me feel nothing. I didn’t hurt, I didn’t care, and it was wonderful. Then the door closed and I snapped back to reality, and thank god I had. I was shaking. I hadn’t wanted a hit so badly since I had been turned into a Tremere. Donovan padded back into the living room looking down at his phone, then glanced up and stopped.

I looked at him like a deer in the headlights. I was instantly aware of everything. I was sweating, my eyes were wide, and I felt empty. I could feel my binder chafing me; I could feel the distinct lack of anything between my legs. I felt like a fraud, and if it was possible to die of embarrassment, then I would have. Unfortunately, that wasn’t possible, so I was just sitting there; having an anxiety attack in front of a guy that I low key wanted to screw. I haven’t had an easy life, but I could say that this was a first.

He seemed unfazed. “I didn’t expect you to still be here.” He said, and seemed as unsure as I did. “Normally, when business is concluded, people just excuse themselves.” He shuffled his feet.

“Sorry, I should go,” I said quickly, hopping down from the chair and grabbing my bag.

“Well now it’s just awkward if you leave,” He said, and I paused, picking up my things. He just seemed unsure, which was not something I had pictured from him. Had his Ventrue buddy said something that had unsettled him? “I guess, just drag that chair over here and I’ll get what you asked for.” He sat at the desk, and I drug the chair over to the command center. Apparently, he was doing something different and important looking on every screen. I thought that he might just be playing a game with like, the panoramic vision, but that wasn’t the case. The thing that I had noticed however was the lower left screen. It didn’t display anything important, but had the logo for Securicorp spinning on the screen on a black field, which was weird, because Securicorp was an extremely successful software security company.

“Did you hack their servers?” I asked, sounding like my entire knowledge of computers came from The Matrix. I truth, that was about as much as I knew?

He snorted. “No. I own it. I am a Ventrue, after all. What, did you think I was the world’s prettiest Nos?”

“The thought had crossed my mind,” I said, then immediately hated the traitorous bastard that called itself a mouth.

He smiled. I was shocked. It was genuine. “I wanted to call it Venture Securities, but everyone was afraid that I’d misspell it and break the Masquerade. People assume that Securicorp is a company based somewhere in California and that it has a big building with thousands of employees. But nope. It’s just one grumpy Mexican with too much time on his hands. And the bonus of having no employees means I don’t have to pay anyone. That lets me make the software do what it’s designed to do. Protect computers from all malicious activity, except for my own.”

He moused over to the window and the logo disappeared, being replaced with a list of names and what looked like IP addresses. As he scrolled through the list, he kept talking. “Securicorp software is designed with a back door that only I have access to, which allows me to remote access any computer that has it downloaded and installed. I make money to black hat people.”

I nodded sagely. “English, please,” I said.

“If you have the software, I can hack your shit, and it looks like your mage has it,” He said, hovering over the name. He read the IP address, and cross referenced it with another screen, then double clicked it. All of the sudden, we were looking at a desktop computer screen. The background was a close up of cherry blossoms. Donovan took his hand off the mouse, and leaned back in his chair, folding his hands into his lap.

“What… What are you doing?” I asked like an idiot. He might as well have been doing magic.

“I’m waiting. One of the risks with remote access is that you can see what I am doing on the home network, so if she is sitting at her computer and all of the sudden, her files open or the mouse starts moving, She calls me and I have to make up some bullshit excuse about a server error or something. It’s easier to wait. The connection goes both ways. If the mouse doesn’t move and nothing opens up after a couple of minutes, then it is safe to assume that the computer owner isn’t at their computer.”

“It sounds like you have a lot of free time, then,” I said. He nodded. “I’ve finished everything on my bookshelf. Usually, I would just work on something else, but I’m not willing to do that with you present. Wouldn’t want to make you an accomplice, or worse, give you info I intend to sell.”

I decided to ask a question to fill the time. As soon as I did, a window opened on the computer. It looked like emails, and it was safe to assume that Jan was at her computer. “Looks like we’ll be here awhile,” I said.

He glanced over at a clock on the wall. It read 1 A.M. “So it does. Whatever. I can use a break.”

“How do you deal with all of the incoming calls? Surely people have issues with your software.”

He smiled. “One of the amazing things about humanity is how absurdly lazy it is. It was simple really, I just hid the phone number in a really long document that no one is going to spend time reading. The few times that someone does manage to find it, I have a couple of Neonate Ventrue answering the phones for boons. They run them through the useless rigmarole that you expect from an IT guy, and then, if it’s actually an issue, it gets forwarded to that phone.” He pointed at a silent cell phone sitting on the desk.  
I was amazed at how simple he made it sound to run a business. No wait, it wasn’t a business. This was a really thorough con, and I had to remind myself of that. This was entirely self-serving. Just because he was good at it didn’t make it not despicable, but then, aren’t we all a little evil? I suck blood from humans, so morality is kind of grey as it is. What I was seeing was a man that had taken a skill and used it to beat capitalism and make it work for him, and I couldn’t be mad about that. It was admirable. My respect for him, and my desire, had actually grown. This was a level of intelligence that made even other Tremere look like children. “You’re… really intelligent,” I said, awestruck.

“Thanks. I pride myself on it.”

“And a little arrogant.”

“Thanks. I pride myself on it.”

I giggled like a fucking schoolgirl and hated myself for it. He made me giddy. He made me so giddy that I slipped trying to make my voice deeper. If he noticed, he hadn’t said anything, but he did turn up the dubstep that until now had been background noise. It wasn’t super loud. Certainly not the floor shaking levels of loud that it had been before. I was surprised that he could hear anything at all.

“So, you know I have to ask, and you don’t have to answer,” He said after a moment of pregnant silence.

“About what?” I immediately went on the defensive.

“How does a generally attractive, clean cut chemist end up with track marks on his arm? And how did they not heal?” He asked.

I appreciated the compliment, but I dreaded the question as a whole, and pulled my sleeves down reflexively. I had forgotten they were there, but it was something I was hounded for, and I had been arrested more than once while a kindred just for having them.

“I uh… I had a rough life,” I said.

He nodded. “Look, if you don’t want to talk about it—“ But I cut him off.

“It’s not that. I probably should talk about it. First, let’s start with the fact that I’ve been sober for years. As for why they are still there, they just never healed. God hates me or something.”

He nodded, absorbing every word. I had to be careful what I said, and I reminded myself of that. He was an information broker, and I doubted that this information would be useful to anyone, but I still didn’t want this to get out.

“I was like, fifteen. Alcohol wasn’t doing it for me anymore, and some of my friends had gotten a hold of some. I wanted to be cool, so I did it with them, and for the first time, I felt nothing. I was so used to being scared of my parents and everything that it felt like a lifeline. When my parents found out, they kicked me out, and at that point, I was using because of the addiction. I started cooking and selling meth soon after just to make a living. Eventually I tried to overdose just to end it, and my sire embraced me then, while I was on death’s doorstep. He said it was to save my life, and that a mind like mine shouldn’t go to waste, but the first damn thing he did was lock me in a basement and made me detox. He said that if I was still sane by the time the withdrawals were over, I was worthy to join the ranks of the Tremere.”

He was quiet the whole time, letting me explain. When I finished, I felt a little better, and he whistled. “What an asshole. You don’t do that to an addict. There is a way to handle it.”

“Yeah well, I didn’t get a chance to know him any better. Asshole died in The Purges a few days later. I was lucky I was in a basement. The last few Tremere that survived found me a few weeks later. I was in hunger frenzy, but I was alive. They started my training immediately because of The Purges and the clan’s numbers in the area plummeting. I was released pretty damn early too. I guess they figured it would be sink or swim.”

He looked at me with some kind of look. I was worried it was pity. I didn’t want his pity. He looked back at the computer. “I was a Cali kid from the hood that learned and took an aptitude to computers. I did a lot of freelance hacking, and one day, I hacked into something I shouldn’t have, and the Nosferatu were pissed. They didn’t kill me, and there was talk of embracing me, because I was pretty and they wanted me to be ugly forever, but Al Capone was the Prince there at the time, and when they asked for Creation Rights, he denied them then embraced me himself. In the end it was a good thing. The Nos are all about Clan unity, but I’m an inherently selfish creature, and Clan Ventrue fits that well. At the time, Capone just needed someone to cook his books for him, but then he realized that given the… proper motivations, as it were, I could build an empire based on my skills, so he sent me here to be at the disposal of Clan Ventrue, and Prince Bonaventure in particular, and to start my fortune.”

“You know, I never have had the chance to ask. Is Bonaventure his first name, or his last name?”

He snorted, and there was a small, cute smile. “His name is Hoss. Hoss Hershel Bonaventure III, Esquire.”

I almost shot horchata out of my nose. “Jesus fucking Christ! Was his mother drunk?”

He just shook his head with that smile of his. “You know, I actually like you. It’s nice to have company sometimes. This job can be pretty lonely.”

I could feel myself turning red, so I hid my face in my glass. His smile vanished, and he looked intrigued, looking closer at the screen. He smacked me lightly on my arm, and I jumped, and then leaned in. She was on a website called Witchvox, and was entering a name and password. When she was in, the layout of the site changed dramatically, and it looked like she was accessing an email for mages. This was more than I had expected when I came. It was all right there. The whole thing. She was talking to someone about animating the plants, doing experiments for an attack on something called the Technocracy. It was all there in black and white. I had the information I needed. He typed something and his printer kicked on, spitting out page upon page. I was shocked that it had been so easy. He waited until the printer was done, then backed out of the remote access, running his hands through his hair.

“Damn I’m good!” He said, getting up and collecting the papers. He then handed them to me. “Here’s everything Prince Bonaventure needs. Don’t tell him I helped you. I like being underestimated and left alone.”

I took them, still stunned, and a little sad. This was the part where I had to leave. I would probably never see him again. That’s all this was anyway, business, right? I tucked the papers into my bag, zipping it up, and looked at him. He had sat back down in his chair, finishing up whatever he had to do, and I took a gamble, and I leaned over his arm rest and kissed him on the cheek. My skin was hot and red, and I hadn’t expected him to be so warm. Most kindred were ice cold, but there was some kind of vitality there. He blinked, looking stunned. I lingered for a minute, then backed up. I had gotten too close, got into his bubble. I shouldn’t have, but then he did something that surprised me. He leaned to me, put his hand on my cheek, and kissed me gently.

I certainly didn’t just sit there. I leaned into it, putting my hand on his cheek lightly. He didn’t seem to mind, and he didn’t pull away, but it was awkward for me. He was so far away, and I immediately need him closer, so I slid of the chair and onto him, straddling his thighs with my legs and not pulling away from his mouth for even an instant. I just hoped to God that it was a sturdy chair. To my relief, it didn’t even squeak. He leaned back in the chair, placing one hand on my side, and the other around my back, and I felt him brush my binder, and I immediately pulled away, embarrassed. He probably wanted nothing to do with my parts mix-up, and I certainly didn’t want to have to explain it.  
“Is there a problem?” He asked quietly.

Umm… No. It’s not you. I should probably go,” I said, trying to leave, but he pet his hand firmly on me, holding me in place, and he slowly lifted me shirt. Exposing my midriff and the black binder underneath. All I could do was blush. I didn’t want him to have to deal with it. I wanted to go home and die of embarrassment.

“Is it this?” He asked, looking at me pointedly. I felt really exposed. Deep down, part of me loved it. I wanted him to know, and I wanted him to judge, but it was more my fear that he would be turned off by the whole thing that overrode it all. I just nodded. It was really small and almost imperceptible. I was working every nerve and muscle to not burst into tears from the embarrassment. He lowered my shirt slowly, then readjusted himself in his chair. I again tried to get off of him, and to get my disgusting self out of his hair, but his hand on my back remained, firm and in place. He had no intention of letting me leave until he spoke, and I didn’t want it.

“So, I guess you’re embarrassed. I guess that’s natural. I had a friend once. He too was grossed out by his body. He hated being born as female, and he hated that he had the body he did, but the night that we fucked, he said something to me. He said, ‘Riviera, Here’s how I see it. I have parts on loan. My real parts are still in the shop getting fixed up. They weren’t good enough to attach yet, so I have these substandard parts that I just have to work with. The way I see it, even if I don’t want them, it’s all I have, so I might as well use them.’ And then we fucked so hard, neither of us could walk right the next morning. He had a great time, and I did too. Sex is more than tab A in slot B for me. It’s a connection, on an intimate level. Sure, it feels good, but it’s less about who has what parts and more about how I can use them to the fullest of my abilities. So, if you want to walk away, then I won’t stop you. You have autonomy. However, if you are still down for this, then I know what to do with the parts you have just as well as the ones that are in the shop.” He finally took his hand off my back, allowing me to leave.

I just sat there, stunned. I guess I didn’t know what I was expecting. Revulsion? Annoyance? Anything other than acceptance. He kept baffling me. He kept making me second guess myself, and it drove me crazy. I leaned forward and kissed him hard this time, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him into it. He seemed totally down with the whole thing too. His mouth was eager, and his hands were steady and sure, even as he trailed up under my shirt and slid his nails along my exposed skin. I was fucking horny now. I was incapable of rational thought. Something about his touch had sent lightning up my spine. I stripped off my tee shirt and struggled at the binder I was wearing, silently cursing that I wasn’t at all prepared for this. It was summer, and the summer made you sticky in the South. I just hoped he didn’t mind too much. He placed a hand on mine as I was struggling with the damn thing. It was so tight, and there was a wicked gleam in his eyes. He leaned forward and exhaled, his hot breath hit the tight fabric and my stiffening nipples under it, and he might as well have lit me on fire. It had the same effect. I whimpered and wrapped my arms around his head, exhaling slowly. The fabric was so tight, yet I was certain that he could see my nipples through it. He exhaled again, this time on the other side, and he hit dead on. Either he had done this before, or he was a hell of a marksman. It shouldn’t have made me feel as good as it did. I had had sex before, but something about this was different, and I didn’t know what it was.

He pressed his thumbs against my nipples through the binder, and spoke, slowly massaging them. “How long has it been for you?”

I stuttered as I spoke. “It’s been… It’s been years. The Tremere are kind of a bunch of nerds, and none of them are my type.”

He slowly took off my binder, taking care as he did not to hurt me. “I mean, most people play with their food., He said. Sure, I knew that. It was taboo to talk about, but almost all the kindred I knew had stated that it was easy to feed during sex. I just never really had. I also didn’t feel a need to respond. That was something I noticed here. I didn’t feel pressured to do anything, and I didn’t feel judged. That was one of the few reasons I was allowing him so close and personal. If he had no issue with my body, then I was safe.  
Finally, the binder came off. I wasn’t necessarily small chested, but they weren’t huge either, thank god for that. I didn’t need the back problems. His eyes glittered and he reached out and playfully flicked one of the barbells. “I would have put in the nice ones, had I known,” I said quietly, my eyes still closed and my arms still resting around his shoulders, I was able to lean on his strong collar and just feel.

“Then I guess we are gonna have to do this again, huh?” He said quietly, then leaned in, flicking out his tongue against one of them. It felt amazing, but I’m sure he knew that. That’s why he did it. If it was anyone else, I would have been disgusted, and I would have wanted to keep my binder on, but something about what he said before, I didn’t feel any dysphoria. He had made me feel wanted, and for once, I was okay with the parts I had. He was right. These were the loaners. I might as well get the mileage out of them. He was remarkably sturdy and firm, but he didn’t hurt me, and he was careful to make sure that I was okay, not like I could tell him no. He didn’t know that I was already putty. He had been in control ever since I stood there waiting for him to speak to me. Feeling like meat. His tongue was nice, but then he bit, and it wasn’t gentle. I squeaked as the blood trickled down the small incision, and I panicked. I didn’t want a blood bond, and I tried to pull away, but again he was firm. “It’s not enough, Chico. I’m not new at this. I just wanted a taste.” He ran his tongue up my breast and to the cut, cleaning up the blood as he went. I don’t know what it was about it, but it just made me even wetter. I knew he could feel the heat between my legs, and I half wondered if he could feel how wet I was through the underwear I had put on. Part of me hoped he could.

He stayed there for a time, paying attention to me, and I kept breathing in short stuttered breaths. After a few minutes of it, he looked at me. “So, not that the whole under the desk blowjob troll bit isn’t appealing, but I do have a bed, and it’s sturdier than my chair.” 

He was looking at me, and I had to push some of the longish hair out of my face. I smiled and got close, whispering into his ear. “Do you want me to be your troll?”

He leaned back, looking me in the eyes again. It was almost disconcerting, but I could see the emotion in them. There was no intent to harm. “This isn’t about me. It’s about you.” He helped me out of his lap and led me into his room. Again, I was surprised by what I saw. It wasn’t the clean and neatly ordered appearance like the rest of the house. This area was lived in. It wasn’t actually dirty. There was no clothes on the floor, and there was no food sitting out or anything. It just wasn’t the regimented kind of clean. The bed wasn’t made, there was a pair of shoes unlaced and toppled over near the bed, and the bookshelf sagged with the weight of the books on it. The hamper had clothes sticking out of it like they had just been tossed in, but it wasn’t overflowing. I immediately understood what was happening. Donovan was letting me into his safe space. He was letting me see the inside, and I felt honored at the whole thought. He went over to the bed and sat on it, beginning to unbutton his shirt, but I came over and sat in his lap, moving his hands and kissing him gently, taking my time with each button. He didn’t seem to mind the making out.

When I finally had the buttons done, I pushed him down and threw his shirt open. I was expecting him to be hirsute, but he didn’t have much hair. He had a thick trail from his belly button to the tantalizing belt and pants button, and there was a little bit on his chest, but I didn’t mind. He also wasn’t as muscular as I thought he’d be. He wasn’t soft or anything, and he was definitely toned, but I had heard a lot about Machismo, and I was kinda glad this way. Washboard abs had always kind of been a turn off for me anyway. I marveled at him for a moment, and I unconsciously ran my tongue over my lower lip then bit into my lip with my teeth. He quirked an eyebrow and looked at me expectantly. That’s when a dark thought entered my mind. I could bite him. I could drink from him. I could take in his essence and be stronger. Diablerie. I hated the thought. I felt weak. I felt like I relapsed, and I guess I frowned or something, because his look turned to one of worry. I shook my head to get the thought out then lowered myself to kiss his stomach, but his hand met my chin, and he made me look at him.

“Are you okay, Jordan?”

He hadn’t actually said my name yet. He just called me Mr. Petrova before. It suddenly felt like it wasn’t all business anymore. It was odd, how much meaning could be carried by someone saying a name, but it conveyed many things to me. One, I was no longer just a business contact, two, he cared enough to address me as a person, and three, he cared enough to remember my name. Any reservations I may have had left my mind at that moment, and I shook my head, then lowered it, kissing his stomach. I guess I didn’t expect him to react. But he sucked in a breath. He hadn’t talked about it, but I guess it had been a while since he had been touched as well. I decided that there was no point in half-assing it then. I wasn’t extremely experienced or anything, but I wasn’t completely new at this, and sure, I had never had a boy in me, but I had hands, books, and the internet. There was always ways to learn. I danced a hand across his chest, paying special attention to his nipples. Logic stated that if he was so experienced with mine, I guess his own must have been special, and I was rewarded with a shuddered breath when I squeezed it. I didn’t squeeze hard, of course. I didn’t know what all he liked. My mouth glided across his stomach and down to his pantline. I wanted to rip them off, but some things were better than patience. I did know one thing though. That looked like it was going to hurt. I wondered if the bulge was all him or if it was a trick of the pants or something, but I knew I was gonna find out soon enough, and I started unbuckling his pants while I was kissing his stomach.

The belt came off easily with a soft rattle as the tine hit the buckle when the belt landed. I wasn’t exactly caring where I threw the clothes. Then I unbuttoned his pants slowly. Before I pulled them off, though, I slid my entire body up his, dragging my mouth and kissing him all along the way until I found his mouth again. I’m a sucker for kissing. I love making out, and dammit, I wanted to kiss him too. He seemed eager to oblige me, his hands running nails along my back. It felt nice in a way I didn’t know was possible. For the first time in years, I felt alive again. I felt like there was blood pumping through my veins. I felt warm. It was almost unsettling until I realized what was happening. Was this what it felt like to have feelings for someone else? I hadn’t felt like this since Jeremy, and I wasn’t sure I could ever feel like this again. Part of me wanted to drag this out, because I knew once the sun came up, we would both fall asleep, and I didn’t want to wake up to an empty bed. It was no point though. He wasn’t Jeremy, and he had a future, and it didn’t have me in it. I tried to focus on something less sad, and couldn’t, so I decided to find something to focus on, and yanked his pants down, pulling them off and throwing them on the floor. Boxer briefs were a good look for him, and these were soft and black. He had the money to have nice things, and I realized that I was basically nothing like him. He was slumming. I knew it, but I wondered if he did.

I liked his legs though. That was for sure. They were strong and muscular, and I wondered if he was a runner before his embrace. That would explain his musculature. I ran my hands along them, feeling his coarse dark hair. I then ran my hand along his happy trail, from the top to the waistband of his boxer briefs, teasing him, of course. He didn’t complain. I grabbed his thighs then, and bit the inside of one of them. He actually made a noise. It was like a mixture between a whimper and a purr, and it spurred me on to bite him more. I may have left a few marks by the time I was done, but I didn’t care. I wanted them. I wanted him. It was kinda dumb, really, and I almost felt territorial, which I know wasn’t right. The Elders had taught me that the Beast makes you do dumb things sometimes, so I chalked it up to that. Then, he sat up, and just like that, I thought I had done something wrong. I don’t think I have ever been full body lifted before, and I shrieked a little when he wrapped his arms around me and lifted me, but he spun and pushed me into the bed. That was one way to take control, for sure. I liked it rough, but I never considered that Potence could be a useful foreplay tool. I also didn’t know that he had that one. He was busy ripping off my jeans. HE WAS LITERALLY TEARING OFF MY JEANS. I don’t know what it was about that. I didn’t even really know I was into that, but I felt the tingling first, then the fire, and I came hard. He hadn’t even touched me. He hadn’t even got my underwear off, and I came so hard I soaked them. He also seemed a little surprised, but he didn’t stop, and I didn’t want him to stop. I didn’t bother being quiet at this point, and I wasn’t worried about my voice anymore either. I let out a loud moan, and it seemed to spur him on. The shredded pants were quickly discarded, and he was on me, biting at my neck and rubbing at my nipples. After the orgasm, the nerves were on fire, and it felt even better than it had before. He was good at his work. I kept moaning. I kept whimpering. I wanted him to know how he made me feel. I didn’t want to hide. He lowered himself down and started kissing at my stomach, running his nails across my sides. I guess the hair didn’t bother him. I had a moderate happy trail at this point. It wasn’t like his, but I was proud of it. His kissing reached my panty line. I kinda wished that I had worn boxers or something, but I was going for function over form when I had left the house that day.

He stopped. I don’t know why he stopped. I didn’t want him to, but he stopped. He sat up and looked at me. I looked down at him, unsure of what to do.

“So you know this is it? Once I pull these off, there is no going back. You’re sure you want this?”

Oh no. He knew. He knew I had never done this. Was I that bad? Was it that obvious? He placed his hand on my stomach.

“Calm your mind. You’re broadcasting,” He said, and then I was truly mortified. I clamped down on that shit so hard, an alligator would have been impressed.

“You aren’t supposed to be able to do that! Stay out of my head!”

“I wasn’t in your hand and we can discuss that later. You were broadcasting. I can’t help but hear the super loud surface thoughts.”

“If I had known that Ventrue could do that, I would have kept a clamp on it.”

“Again, we can discuss that later. What I am asking is, are there any final reservations? Are you sure you want to do this? I won’t be upset if you say no.”

I wasn’t really sure. Part of me wanted him to bend me over, rail me, and fill me with whatever he had inside, but there was another part of me that wanted to wait. To wait until I was truly ready. Ready for what, though? What was there to wait for? He was right here. He was fucking hot and willing, and I sure wasn’t going to find anyone better. I didn’t know what the hang-up was, and he wasn’t moving. He just hovered there on his knees, his face sitting between my legs, and he was waiting for my answer. I had made my decision. “Fuck me.” I said, probably louder and more aggressively than I had meant to. Then there was lightning down my spine. He hadn’t even moved my underwear. He just put his tongue against my clit, but it was more than I had ever let a man touch me before. The dysphoria had never let me move further. Not even with Jeremy. Those panties were soaked by now. It couldn’t have been good, but he said nothing and didn’t let up, pressing against my opening with his fingers, but again, it was on the outside of my underwear. I had never hated underwear so much in my entire life. And then they were gone. He had gotten them off in one deft movement without the awkward working them down or anything. I had never been naked in front of a man before. And because of that, I guess I never thought to groom in anyway. It wasn’t like I had an enchanted forest, but I also wasn’t clean shaven. He stood and looked at me, and I instinctively closed my legs and pulled my hands over my chest, and I was sure I was bright fucking red. It was probably a scene out of some trashy anime, the nubile young thing looking shyly away from the protagonist but secretly wanting it. He just smiled. Then he removed his pants.  
I knew what a dick looked like. I had sucked Jeremy off more than once just because I could and it made him happy, but I had never seen an uncircumcised dick before. I figured it out pretty quick, of course. I was also again shocked at how little body hair he had. It wasn’t particularly thick, but it was as dark as the hair on his head. He pressed his hand against me, and I gasped for the air that I no longer required. It was so different when someone else was doing the touching. It just felt entirely different. I simultaneously wanted more and wanted less feeling. It wasn’t bad. I actually enjoyed it. It was something that felt so damn good, I was certain that I was going to cum again. I wanted to, but I also wanted to wait. I wanted him inside of me. I was told that on the first time, it hurt. I didn’t have a hymen. I destroyed that with my own fingers a long time ago, but I wondered if it would still hurt. Part of me hoped it would. Then he slipped his fingers inside of me. It wasn’t the same as when he was massaging my clit. It wasn’t bad, but it was different. He was stretching me out with his fingers. I could at least feel that, but he was making the process an enjoyable one. His thumb occasionally brushed my clit while he was doing it, which brought me closer and closer to the edge. I guess I should have asked about the condom before then, but it was too late. As he entered me, it didn’t actually hurt, and something about the act pushed me over the line. I came on him right there, right on entry. He thrusted slowly, which made the orgasm more intense, definitely. And when I was taking shaky breaths, he pulled out, flipped me over onto my knees, and he entered me again, but this time, he wasn’t so gentle. I was being used, and it was exactly what I wanted. I just grabbed a pillow and let him go to town, each thrust making me come closer to orgasm again. I didn’t know it was possible to orgasm so closely together, but then, I had read things. I started to moan and scream again, not really caring if anyone heard or not. He just went harder and faster. He also had amazing stamina, or at least, that’s what I hoped it was. It took a while. I orgasmed one more time by myself before he started making noise, and I could feel his cock get thicker inside of me. He was going so fast and hard now, and I loved every minute of it. I came with him, feeling his cock explode inside of me. I loved that feeling. I didn’t think I would. I then realized that I was shaking, and if I hadn’t been on my knees already, my legs would have buckled. He didn’t pull out right away. He just sat there, panting. He exerted himself, and I had too. After a few minutes, he pulled out, or slipped out, I guess, and he came back with a towel, which he pressed against me. Good plan. I hadn’t thought of it. Then he was next to me, lighting a cigarette.

At some point my legs had flattened out. I was lying on my stomach. I at least had enough mobility to put my head on his leg. His hand found my hair, and he played with it and scratched my head idly. There wasn’t much to say really, but at some point, I fell asleep there.

I woke up the next evening to an empty bed. It was heart breaking. I had a feeling that I would. The magic was over and the ballgown was rags again. I didn’t even want to bother with clothes, but I could smell something. I looked around and found his shirt from the night before on the floor, so I put it on and also my underwear, which had dried at this point. That didn’t really make it less gross, but my bag with an extra change of clothes was in the living room. I stumbled out, definitely looking like the most recent mistake, and to my surprise, he was in the kitchen. I blinked at him and came out, finding that all my stuff was still where I had left it, untouched. His computer hadn’t even been turned on. I guess he heard me, and he looked up.

“I had hoped to be done before you woke up. I remember you saying something before about not wanting to wake up to an empty bed.”

“I never said that,” I mumbled, still a little hoarse from the morning before.

“You must have broadcasted it then. Either way, I was gonna make you breakfast before you left.” He was making something that smelled like heavily spiced meat and eggs.

“I didn’t know you could cook. I figured you subsisted on Cheetos and Mountain Dew.”

“First off, I’m a Doritos man, second, my neighbor is a world renowned chef. I learned a few things. I’m surprised he’s not a Toreador. His cooking is an art.”

We ate before I left. And he saw me off. He hadn’t even touched his computer before I was out of the door. I ended up having to steal a pair of sweatpants to go home in, and I had to do that before I could go see the Prince. But he made me promise that I would come back and see him occasionally. And I can assure you, I did.


End file.
